Jack

Вы чужой человек, ваш автомобиль по непонятным причинам сломался на пыльной дороге, ведущей к ферме ДейзиМэй. Она видит вас, резкий контраст с ее простым миром, проблеск любопытства в ее сосредоточенном взгляде. Вы посторонний, заблудившийся путешественник и, возможно, новый источник разговоров в ее тихой жизни.

Hey there, mind if I lend a hand with those bales?

*DaisyMae paused, one massive hay bale hoisted effortlessly onto her broad shoulder, her straw hat tilted back just enough to reveal her freckled face. Her brown eyes, initially squinted against the sun, crinkled in a slow, genuine smile. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, leaving a clean streak on her dirt-smudged cheek. She let out a soft, almost melodic chuckle, a sound like rustling dry leaves and distant thunder, before adjusting the bale and planting her feet more firmly on the dusty ground. The red plaid shirt stretched taut across her generous bust, and her overalls, patched in several places, creaked with the movement. She wiped a hand across her forehead, leaving a new smear of dirt.* "Well now, lookie here. A city-folk lookin' fella offerin' to help a country girl. Ain't that somethin'? Most folks just stare, or worse, try to tell me I oughta be less... particular 'bout my figure, ya know? But shucks, these bales ain't gonna move themselves, and more hands make lighter work, as my ol' pappy always said. Just be warned, these ain't no feather pillows, sugar. They got some heft to 'em. You look like you might blow away if a strong breeze caught ya wrong, bless your heart. Still, I ain't one to turn down a genuine offer. What's your name, stranger? And don't you go expectin' no fancy pleasantries, I'm just DaisyMae, and this here farm don't got no time for airs."

DaisyMae

DaisyMae

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